


Slow Dancing in the Dark

by melancholy_writing



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, Romantic Fluff, arthur does get a little obsessive at some point, but its because youre kind, but listen, i havent written in a while, it has really nice and soft moments :(, joker spoilers lmfao, nonbinary friendly, please bear with me, yes the title is a joji song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-16 13:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21036794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholy_writing/pseuds/melancholy_writing
Summary: Life had been nothing but pain and suffering for Arthur Fleck. After his first breaking point, things seem to be looking up for him -- at least, they appear that way.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Please bear with me! It's been quite a while since I've written anything! I also intend this piece to turn out more realistically than what I usually write, therefore there will be dark themes and not just happy fun times. I hope you all enjoy and let me know if you have any suggestions on how to improve :)

Arthur exhaled, a stream of smoke leaving his lips. He leaned his head on the back of the couch, his cigarette loosely hanging from his lips. Closing his eyes, he focused on his breathing. Things haven’t been the same since two nights ago. Not since he murdered those three boys. But, things weren’t different in a bad way -- quite the opposite actually. Arthur smiled to himself. He had never felt more liberated in his entire life. All the pent-up anger and frustration he had felt was gone. At that moment, he wasn’t sad. He wasn’t thinking about his shitty, rundown apartment he shared with his mother, or how he had lost his job he cared so much for just hours before. He wasn’t thinking. It was freeing.

Getting up with a groan, he put out his cigarette in the glass ashtray on the coffee table in front of him. He stayed slouched for a moment, his elbows supporting himself on his knees. He sighed deeply and got up, stretching his sore muscles. Arthur decided to leave his grimy apartment for the day. While Gotham didn’t offer much for fresh air, it seemed more desirable than the stuffy home.

After dressing himself, he exited his apartment and entered the elevator. The doors started to close before he started to hear the sound of rushed footsteps quickly approaching.

“Wait! Please! Hold the elevator!” The voice sounded breathless. Right on time, Arthur stuck his foot between the closing doors, halting them before they slowly started to open again. The doors revealed a disheveled, yet relieved, person.

“Thank you,” you said, smiling at Arthur. “I don’t think I would have made it without you. You know how long it takes for these elevators to make their rounds.”

“Y-yeah, it’s no problem,” Arthur said, averting his eyes. Regardless of everything that happened in the last few days, he was still shy and reserved. It didn’t help that he found you particularly attractive. He was never good with pretty people. After a stint of awkward silence, you spoke up again.

“I’m (y/n), by the way.” 

Arthur was taken aback, surprised that you would want to keep conversation. A shy smile crept it’s way to his face before he responded.

“Arthur. It’s nice to meet you.”

You stuck out your hand, giving him a warm smile that worked its way up to your eyes. Arthur took your hand and shook it. The contact with you made him blush. The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Stepping off, he expected you to take your leave immediately, yet you just turned to face him again.

“I’m sorry if this seems like oversharing, I know we only met each other maybe two minutes ago, but I just moved in this week, so I don’t really know anyone here--” you rambled, making Arthur chuckle to himself. You weren’t quite making sense anymore, and he figured it was out of nervousness.

“I could give you my number if you’d like,” he said, offering a small smile. “Then you could call if you ever need anything. We do live on the same floor, so coming by if you needed help would be no problem at all.”

You smiled, nodding your head excitedly. Quickly, the smile dropped from your face.

“Oh, I don’t have anything to write with.”

“It’s okay, I always carry a notebook and pen around with me!” He’d never admit that it was his joke book. Not right now, at least. Skimming through, he caught sight of a blank piece of paper. He quickly wrote down his number and gave it to you.

“Thank you so much, Arthur!” You smiled. Arthur felt his heart flutter and another shy grin graced his features.

“It’s no problem, really,” he said. The two of you walked side-by-side as you exited the complex, before coming to a halt at the sidewalk. 

“Well, I gotta go this way,” you said, nodding towards the left. “I’ll see you soon though, okay?”

Arthur smiled, admiring the way the wind swept through your hair and the sharp Gotham cold tinted your cheeks and nose pink.

“I’ll keep you to that,” he said. And with that, you parted ways.


	2. Two

It had been three days since Arthur first met you. The first, he basically spent the entire day by the phone, jumping up anxiously the one time the phone rang. Sadly, it was a telemarketer. The second day, he was still hopeful. Keeping a close eye on the phone from the couch, he waited. No one called that day. By the third day, Arthur had basically given up hope. Pre-occupying his usually very boring day, he continued his very boring normal routine of wasting away watching television. That was until the phone rang.

Scrambling, he rushed to the phone. He took a second before picking up, composing himself as to not sound like a nervous trainwreck over the phone. He doubted it would be them anyways.

“Hello?” Arthur felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment.

“Hey, is this Arthur?”

“Yes, it is,” he smiled, a wave of relief washing over him. “And who might this be?” he quipped, a mischievous tone underlying the question he already knew the answer to. He could hear the voice on the other end pout jokingly, making him smile even wider.

“You forgot me already? And just when I was about to see what you were up to…” Although he knew you were joking, a part of him panicked that you changed your mind about him.

“No, no! D-Do you maybe want to come over for a cup of coffee?” He asked, wincing when he remembered his mother. She tended to intrude, so he doubted that it would be a peaceful meeting. Plus, nothing says desirable like a man in his 30s living with his mother.

“Actually, I was going to invite you to come with me to this little tea shop I discovered nearby. What do you say?”

“Perfect! When?”

“Right now. Meet me out in the hallway. See ya soon!” The phone clicked, signaling that you had hung up.

“Ma, I’m going out!” Arthur called out, taking his jacket from the coat hanger by the door.

“Where? With who?” He winced, her voice had always sounded so shrill to him.

“Just a friend!” Hurriedly, he slipped his jacket on and opened the door.

“Friend? What--” 

He closed the door before she could finish and sighed. He loved her, he truly did, but he always felt so drained talking to her. She made him feel like a zombie.

“Arthur! There you are!” a sweet, familiar voice called out from behind him. Turning around, he was greeted by your welcoming smile. 

“It’s chilly out today, are you sure that jacket will be enough?” you asked, your brows furrowing. His heart swelled and he felt the tips of his ears heat up. Not once had anyone expressed concern over him for something so easily overlooked. Shaking his head, he assured you it was fine.

“If you insist,” you didn’t seem very convinced. “No point in arguing, you all set to go?” Arthur nodded his head. You extended your arm out, nudging him to link his with yours. The corners of his mouth twitched up as he intertwined his arm with yours. 

On the brisk walk to the tea shop, Arthur found himself lost in his thoughts in the brief stints of comfortable silence. He thought first about your kindness, then your shining bright eyes. You were obviously from outside of Gotham. Nothing as pure or good as you could ever come from Gotham, he thought. He had only really known you for a day, but he wanted nothing more than to protect you from this horrible city, from its horrible people. People unlike the two of you. He wouldn’t allow it to corrupt you like it did everyone else.

“Arthur? Arthur? Are you okay?” you asked, snapping him out of his deep thought.

“Hm? Oh! I’m fine, it’s nothing to worry about.” He smiled. It wasn’t like the other warm, friendly smiles he had given you. It felt empty and forced. Your smile faltered for a moment but quickly returned.

“Here it is! I know it doesn’t look like much from the outside, but I promise it’s totally worth it!” Arthur detached his arm from yours and opened the door.

“After you!” He bowed dramatically, making you giggle. He felt his ears flush pink again, proud to have made you laugh. It was the best thing he had heard all week.

“Such a gentleman,” you said, walking through the door. Arthur stayed bowed down until you had entered through completely. He stood back up, following after quickly you like a lost puppy. Standing close behind you unsurely, he looked around the small tea shop. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the smell of the brewing teas wafting through the air. It was a refreshing change compared to the usual smell of pollution in the streets or tobacco from his own home.

“I’ve never really had tea,” Arthur mumbled shyly, his eyes scanning the hefty list of teas to choose from. “I’m typically more of a coffee person.”

“That’s okay!” you assured him. “I’ll just get you one of my favorites.”

Without giving him time, you walked up to the register and ordered for both of you. Arthur prepared to get out his wallet, but you stopped him.

“Don’t. It’s on me,” you said, smiling kindly at him.

“But-” he began to interject, but you interrupted him.

“You can just get me the next time we hang out,” you smirked, winking at him. Arthur let out a laugh, thankful that his nerves didn’t just get the best of him.

“Insinuating that you’d like to see me again?” he asked. He slipped into the seat across from you at the table you decided to settle at. 

“Of course! I’d like to think that we’re friends now, Arthur.” 

The waitress brought the two of you your drinks. Both of you muttered awkward ‘thank you’s. You took a sip of your tea, Arthur mirroring your actions. The drink was warm and slightly bitter but had a pleasant flowery hint. Arthur could detect just a dash of cinnamon and apple, making him lightly hum in delight. He quite liked tea so far. 

“So, Arthur,” you began, setting down your tea, “tell me about yourself,”

Shit, Arthur could feel one of his laughter outbreaks bubble up in his throat. Quickly, he patted down the pockets of his coat with one hand while holding his throat with the other. You gave him a worried expression, nervously glancing him up and down.

“Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

Arthur couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out into painful laughing. He finally retrieved the card from one of the hidden pockets in his jacket and handed it to you. He was extremely thankful you two were some of the only patrons in the tea shop.

Reluctantly, you took the card from his hands.

‘Forgive my laughter. I have a condition.’

A look of understanding crossed your face and you flipped the card to its other side wordlessly, eyes skimming the information on the back. What little other customers were in the shop shot aggravated looks towards Arthur. You contemplated for a moment before putting your hand on Arthur’s and giving him a reassuring smile. You quietly waited for him to calm down, squeezing his hand gently. 

“I’m sorry, people don’t usually ask about me so it… shocked me a little,” he choked out. You shook your head, dismissing it.

“It’s fine, you can’t really help it. I’m just relieved I didn’t upset you like I thought I did. But, I still do want you to tell me about yourself. Like your hobbies, what you do for a living. You know, stuff like that,” you said, taking a sip from your cup.

“Ah… let’s see, where do I begin? Up until a couple of days ago, I worked as a party clown. For kids, you know? I… quit. I wanted to start focusing on my career as a full-time comedian, but it was a good job to have. I just wanna make people smile. I, uh, live with my mother, too. She’s been very ill lately and needs someone to take care of her and I’m really all she has,” Arthur felt a part of him shrivel up when he admitted that he lived with his mother. The easiest way to make him look like a sore loser in front of the one person who has been kind to him.

“No way! I’ve always loved clowns and stuff like that since I was a kid! Plus, you and I are kind of in a similar situation housing wise. See, my dad lives on the floor below us and I moved to Gotham to take care of him since my mother died and he’s not in the best health. I’m just lucky that he’s stable enough for me to live in a separate apartment,” you said. Suddenly, Arthur didn’t feel as embarrassed about living with his mother. He hoped maybe he even viewed what he was doing as kind.

“Actually, speaking of clowns--” you continued, “this whole… rebellion? I assume that’s what you would call it -- what do you think about it?” you asked, leaning closer to Arthur. His lips twitched upwards and he tried his best to contain his amusement.

“I think it’s quite strange,” he shrugged.

Not satisfied with his answer, you leaned back into your normal position.

“I’m a bit new to the culture in Gotham, so I wanted to see what someone like you and I would say. I don’t really have an input yet, but it seems like a lot of people are moved by it.” You stare out the window behind Arthur. Behind him, a person with a clown mask walks by. Turning back to you, he just smiles.

“We’ll see with time.”


	3. Three

That night, Arthur sat next to his mother in her bed, doing their nightly routine of watching ‘The Murry Show’. His eyes lit up as the late-night show’s intro began. For a moment, he wasn’t truly watching the television. For a moment, he was there. He was in the audience, smiling brightly as is idol gracefully greeted the crowd, their cheers roaring loudly around him. The studio seemed to glow. After Murry cheekily said one of his infamous one-liners, Arthur laughed, gaining the attention of the famous host. He had been seen by someone important. 

Arthur shook his head. Sometimes his fantasies felt a little too real. It was fine, though, he assured himself. He was always able to bring himself back to reality.

The show had ended and Arthur and his mother told each other goodnight. Quietly closing her door behind him. The living room was dark. Everything felt still aside from the occasional sound of cars passing by on the streets below. 

Glancing down, he noticed an envelope on the table. It was yet to be stamped, meaning his mother had just written it. He knew it was wrong to go through other’s mail, but he had always wondered why his mother had been so obsessed with Thomas Wayne, insisting that she would help her and Arthur. Curiosity got the best of him. 

Tenderly, he removed the slip of paper from the envelope, as to not wrinkle it or leave signs that he had been tampering with her stuff. After all, he would just put it back after he read it. He unfolded the letter, eyes slowly scanning the page. He stopped, his eyebrows furrowing together, re-reading the passage again to ensure he wasn’t misunderstanding the context of the letter.

Angrily, he slammed down the paper, no longer worried about damaging it. He was furious. His mother had actively kept the truth from him. Arthur ran a shaky hand through his hair, laughter threatening to spill at any moment. He didn’t hold it back this time. Hot tears streamed down his face as he laughed. His throat burned as he gripped the armrest of the couch in an attempt to keep himself up. He wasn’t going to let this slide by. He wanted answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is a bit short, but the next chapter is in the works now :)


	4. Four

“Arthur? Are you home?” The sound of gentle knocking came from the front door. Arthur groaned, rolling off his couch.

“Y-Yeah, I’ll be there in a second.”

Arthur cussed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He looked around for a shirt, finding the one discarded on the floor from the night before. He shuffled to the door, undoing the two locks before finally opening it. Standing on the other side was you, a worried expression donning your features. You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around his thin frame. Shocked, he stood there for a second before embracing you.

“Hey,” you said softly.

“Hey,” he smiled, enjoying the tender moment. Pulling back, you looked back at him, your eyes quickly scanning his face.

“Are you okay? I heard your mom is in the hospital. I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for the past four days, but every time I’ve stopped by or called you haven’t been home,” you frowned.

Arthur’s eyes dulled at the mention of his mother. He knew everything now. He knew he was adopted. That she let the abuse happen to him. It was her fault he had his fucking laughing condition. She wasn’t his real mother. He hated her. Arthur smiled sweetly at you, taking your face into his hand, gently brushing over your cheek with his thumb.

“I’m fine. Thank you for being so kind, love.”

You blushed, averting your eyes to the floor. He had never felt this close to someone in his life. 

“I’m visiting her later today,” he said, a somber tone to his voice.

“Do you want me to come with you?” you asked, taking his hand in yours. 

“Ah, thank you, but it’s okay. She’s not doing too well so I think I need to go myself,” Arthur looked distant. You nodded your head, understanding that he was probably going through a lot. 

“I don’t want to hold you up, so I’ll get going. I’ll stop by later, okay?”

\--

Arthur dropped the pillow he had been holding seconds before and looked at his mother. His chest was heaving, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He takes a moment to process what he had done -- the plan he went through. He laughed, but it wasn’t one induced by stress, from his condition. He laughed out of pure joy. Relief. For the second time in his life, he felt free.

Her body was completely still, void of any life. Arthur thought of you at that moment. You had shown him more love and affection than he felt his mother gave him in the short few days he had known you. You didn’t doubt his dreams, you didn’t force him to be someone he wasn’t. He was so sick of being a “good little boy”, a “happy boy”. He was fucked up and he knew it -- but was there something so wrong about being fucked up? For being anything other than happy?

Arthur gave the body in front of him one final look of disgust. He was done with that chapter of his life. She was nothing more than the past to him.

\--

Arthur found himself back in his apartment later that night. His apartment. A record played quietly as he smoked a cigarette, his body swaying freely to the beat. Over the music, he heard a gentle knocking at the front door. Putting out his cigarette, he smoothly danced his way over, swinging the door open.

“Arthur--” you began, concern lacing your voice. Arthur paid no mind to your concern, playfully pulling you into his apartment. Holding your waist with one arm and your hand with his other, he kicked the door behind the two of you closed while making you dance with him.

“A-Arthur!” you giggled, surprised by his unexpected playfulness. It was the last thing you expected when you went to check up on him.

“(Y/n), my love! Dance with me!” he laughed, swinging you around giddily. 

“I guess I really don’t have a choice,” you chuckled, tightening your grip around Arthur. Being that close to you made his heart nearly burst. 

The upbeat song playing ended and the record spun silently before finally reaching the next song.

“Put your head on my shoulder…”

The voice coming from the record player softly crooned. Arthur settled you two into a slow dance, his eyes sparkling as he looked at you. Your face flushed and you found yourself in the familiar situation of adverting your eyes. 

“Angel… look at me,” Arthur softly spoke. He stopped dancing, removing his hands from your sides. He cupped your face with his hands, smiling at you fondly. There was nothing short of adoration in his eyes.

“Arthur…” you began, only to be interrupted.

“I love you.”

His voice was light, just barely above a whisper. He would have questioned whether or not he had even said it if it wasn’t for the way you had fallen quiet, shock written all over your face.

“Arthur… we’ve only known each other for a few days…” you weren’t harsh with your words. You sounded more confused than anything.

“You’ve gotten to know me better than anyone else has ever bothered to,” he mumbled. He felt you lean into his hands as you gently placed one of your own on his. His words seemed to have struck a chord with you. Maybe you were realizing just how lonely he truly was.

“I can’t continue on like this. I need you.”

Arthur closed the distance between the two of you. You leaned into his kiss, snaking your arms behind his neck to deepen it. The music, the sound of cars passing by, the smell of stale cigarettes -- all of it seemed to faze out of existence. All Arthur could focus on, was you.

Nothing truly mattered to him anymore. Nothing other than you. You were all he had, all he ever held dear. He loved you. He loved you more than anyone, anything. Now, you were his and he wouldn’t let anyone take that away from him. He wasn’t sure what the future held for the two of you, but he knew that, at that moment, you were in his arms.

You rested your head on Arthur, wrapping your arms around him once more, swaying slowly to the music. He wanted nothing more than that moment to last forever.


	5. Five

Arthur hung up the phone, his usually dull, green eyes sparkling. Murray wanted him on his show. Arthur knew that he was only being invited to be made fun of. That didn’t matter to him, though. It only gave him a platform. It was perfect.

Just minutes later, he found himself standing in front of your apartment door, a dazed grin plastered on his face. You were going to be so proud of him. He knew it.

“Arthur, what are you doing here? It’s late--” Arthur cut you off, excitement evident in his voice.

“Murray wants me to be on his show. I’m going Thursday,” he said, taking your hand into his. Your face fell, your usually upturned lips forming a frown. Sighing, you motioned him to come in so the two of you could talk in private. You sat closely together on the couch, your thumb gently stroking the back of the hand you held. You looked up at him and he could see the worry in your teary eyes, illuminated by Gotham’s neon lights outside the window.

“Arthur, he wants to make fun of you. Don’t you remember what he said about you the other night? It was awful,” your voice cracked and you squeezed his hand lightly.

“I know,” his voice was deadly serious. His eyes seemed to bore holes into you as you sat stunned, probably wondering why in God’s name he would ever want to put himself in that position.

“I need to let him know what I’ve done. What they’ve done to me,” he said. 

“What are you talking about?” your voice was shaky and unsure. Arthur smiled, gently brushing the hair from your face.

“Did you ever figure out how you felt about the clowns?”

“Arthur, please. Tell me what’s going on,” you sounded desperate and he felt his heart sink a little. He couldn’t keep you in the dark forever.

“Can you keep a secret?” Arthur stared deep into your eyes, trying to read whatever you were feeling. Hesitation, sympathy, worry. You nodded your head slowly as if a part of you knew what he was going to say.

“I did it. I killed those guys on the subway.”

It was quiet. The silence seemed to last forever as you sat next to Arthur, shifting your eyes from his own to the floor below your feet. Anxiety bubbled in Arthur’s chest as he watched you process the information he had given you. You were the only one he cared about, the only one who had been kind to him, he couldn’t lose you.

“Did you kill her too? Your mother, I mean,” your voice was just barely audible as you looked back at him, hands balled nervously together in your lap.

“She hurt me. She had it coming,”

There was another pause. You looked like you were contemplating something.

“Is that what you plan to do on Murray’s show?”

Arthur nodded, a small smile fighting its way to his face before it fell, remembering the situation he was in. Suddenly, you shifted so that you were completely facing Arthur, leaning in close.

“Fuck them. Do it,”

Your words startled him. He was expecting you to scream at him, cuss at him, call the police -- anything other than that. He laughed, pulling you to his chest and embracing you.

“I’m just so sick of watching you and everyone else get mistreated. I hate this place -- I want things you change,” you said with teary eyes. Arthur pressed his face onto the top of your head, planting a soft kiss in your hair.

“I’m going to make things change. I promise,”

\--

Arthur sat at his vanity, caking his face with the white paint he once used for his clown, Carnival. The soft bristles of the brush ran smoothly over his face, working from one corner of his mouth to the other. He stopped for a moment, staring at his reflection. He stuck his tongue out, running the brush along it. The white coated his tongue, the sight distracting him from the strong, chemical taste of the paint. 

Arthur’s eyes trailed up to the corner of the vanity, landing on the picture wedged in between the dark mahogany and the mirror. It was an old picture of his mother, worn and faded from time. He reached out and grabbed it, inspecting it closer. She was probably in her mid-twenties, smiling brightly at the camera. He flipped it over, not wanting to look at her much longer, only to find a note. The handwriting wasn’t his mother’s, it was too masculine -- but still neat, nonetheless.

‘You look so beautiful here.’

-Thomas 

He huffed bitterly, crumpling the picture up in his hands and quickly discarding it on the floor. Bullshit, he thought. She was crazy. Even if there was something between her and Thomas Wayne, it didn’t matter anymore. He had seen the adoption papers and she was dead.

The doorbell rang and Arthur groaned. He knew it wasn’t you, you always knocked or called first. The thought that it could be the police crossed his mind. They had been on his back lately. It didn’t bother him, but he wasn’t ready to give in. He quickly searched through his drawers, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. The second drawer he checked held a pair of shears. He grabbed them, tucking it into his back pocket as he got up to answer the door. 

The doorbell rang obnoxiously once more as he reached the hallway. He rolled his eyes and threw open the door. He was surprised to see Randall and Gary, his old co-workers, standing behind the door.

“Hey, Arthur, did ya get a new gig?” Randall asked, he and Gary walking past Arther and into his living room.

“No,” Arthur said, shrugging.

“Ah, going to the rally downtown? I hear it’s gonna be crazy,” Randall said, turning from the living room to face Arthur.

“That’s today?” Arthur asked innocently, closing the door, locking the chain lock at the top. Randall made a face, obviously not understanding what was going on.

“Then what’s up with the face paint?”

“My mother died. I’m celebrating,” Arthur said nonchalantly, leaning against the wall next to him. He took a drag of his cigarette and extinguished it on the wall, dragging the ashes out as if Randall and Gary weren’t boring holes into his head.

“Yeah… that’s what we came here about,” Randall nodded his head towards Gary, who was holding a brown paper bag, most likely containing some sort of alcohol. “Figured you could use some cheering up.” 

“That’s sweet of you, but really, I’ve never felt better,” Arthur smiled at them, his eyes empty. Randall and Gary exchanged worried glances before Randell spoke up again.

“That’s… that’s great Arthur. Listen -- the cops have been coming by a lot lately, askin’ questions about the subway murders and I was wondering--” Randall was cut off by Gary, confusion clear on his face.

“Really? They haven’t talked to me,” he said, earning an annoyed look from Randall.

“That’s because the clown who did it was regular sized. If it was a fucking midget, you’d be in jail right now,” Randall said angrily. Gary’s shoulders drooped sadly.

Arthur gripped the walls he was supporting himself on and forced out laughter. Randall was shit at making jokes that weren’t at others' expense. He always hated that about him.

“Anyways, Arthur--” Randall began to speak again, but Arthur wasn’t listening, anger slowly consuming him. Arthur slowly approached Randall, his hand gripping the scissors in his back pocket, smiling and nodding along as Randall droned on. Randall smiled at Arthur, but it wasn’t genuine.

“You know you’re my boy, right?”

Arthur frowned deeply at that. His boy. Fucking scumbag.

Clasping the shears tighter, Arthur lunged, stabbing Randall on the side of his head. Randall screamed out in pain, blood gushing out. Arthur reared his arm back and stabbed him once more in the eye, pushing him against the wall before repeatedly smashing his skull against the hard surface. Blood splattered across his painted face and the hand gripping Randall’s shirt was completely coated. Randall finally stopped struggling and slumped against the wall.

Arthur slid down in the spot next to Randall’s body, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. His eyes trailed up slowly to see Gary standing behind his kitchen table, terrified out of his mind. In the rush of adrenaline, Arthur had completely forgotten about Gary.

“What?” Arthur asked, almost as if nothing had happened.

“W-Why would you do that,” Gary whimpered out. Arthur smiled, shaking his head.

“Do you watch the Murray Franklin Show?”

“Y-Yeah,” poor Gary was confused as to why Arthur was asking him a question like that at a time like this.

“I’m gonna be on tonight. Fuckin’ crazy, innit? Me on the telly…” Arthur said, poking fun at Gary’s accent. He leaned his head against the wall, tired from everything that had happened just moments ago.

“You can go, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Arthur waved his hand dismissively. Gary nodded timidly, quickly trying to make his way to the door. As Gary passed him, Arthur jumped forward, reaching out his arms and yelling. Gary screamed and Arthur leaned back against the wall, laughing at his cruel joke. Gary hurried to the door, trying his best to open it. It was locked. Gary jumped, his fingertips barely brushing the bottom of the lock. He tried two more times before giving up.

“A-Arthur…”

“Hm?” Arthur lazily turned his head, chuckling when he spotted the problem. He lifted himself slowly and unlocked the door, opening it, then closing it again. Looking down at a frightened Gary, he smiled.

“You were the only one who was ever nice to me,” he said, placing a light kiss on his friend’s head. He opened the door once more, finally letting Gary out of his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long! I really struggled to get this chapter the way I wanted it to be and I scrapped it a couple of times hehe


End file.
